


Iridescence

by cfkenobi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alien Character(s), F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3085178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfkenobi/pseuds/cfkenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma was sent away by her parents when she was eleven years old, having no memories of her life before arriving to Planet Earth. She meets Regina Mills, the most annoying human being who could ever exist, and quite possibly the love of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lacuna (n.) a blank space; a missing part

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys.  
> So, the thing is: we'll meet little Regina next chap, we'll have little SQ for 2 or 3 chapters and then we'll skip a lot of time.  
> Depending on what you guys think I'll continue the story, so let me know if you feel like it.  
> The rating will change eventually.  
> English isn't my first language and I have no beta, so I apologize for any possible mistakes.  
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my own ideas.  
> PS: I Aram means little sun.

It happens when she's 11, and she can barely understand the situation.

Her mother is pushing her toward a little spaceship, barely fit for one. She is whispering how much she loves her and blinking so fast, Emma notes, and her father can't even properly look at her through his desperate sobs. He kisses the top of her head over and over again, whispers "you'll be okay, I Aram," and sticks his trembling hand into her pocket, presses his finger to his lips.

She chooses to ignore the added weight of the object her father put in her pocket because his eyes are pleading her to do it for now.

Her mother keeps whispering "It'll be all right," and forcing a smile. She presses a kiss to Emma's temple, closing and sealing the small spaceship's transparent door, and looking at Emma as though she's the best thing that could ever happen to her.

She clutches her hand to her chest as though her heart weighs way too much at the moment, and mouths 'I love you' just as the spaceship rises off the ground. Emma desperately tries to open the goddamned door, but it is fruitless.

"Mother!" She yells and punches the door. "Mother, we can do this together! I can fix this, I promise! Please get me out of here!"

She screams and kicks and cries, and gets the last glance that she would ever have of her family.

They are only brilliant little dots in the distance now, her nails long broken, fingers bruised and bleeding, her whole body sore and scraped with the worthless attempts to get out of there, when the tiny, blue and green spot that was her planet ceases to exist completely.

She passes out and doesn't wake up until hours later.

.

When she opens her eyes, it's a forest she sees.

The door to her spaceship is open and she assumes her mother must have programmed the ship to only open when it reached its destiny. She stands up on wobbly legs, steps out of the ship, studies her surroundings. She's tired, so very tired, but she has to find a way back to her land.

She looks back and sees what is left of her spaceship, murmurs her disapproval of how badly it had taken the landing since Emma doubts she can even touch it without it falling apart. Taking a quick look at herself, she finds that her body isn't in much good conditions either.

It won't take much time for her to heal after the sun makes its appearence, but still. The pain is somewhat uncomfortable and she doesn't like it; It will slow her down.

She thinks it must have taken hours to get here, or even days, judging by the little noises her stomach produces. She is so nervous she doubts her body would even accept something without giving it back full force, but she has to feed. If she wants to be strong enough to find a way back, she has to get a proper meal.

So she starts walking.

 _Well, not a proper meal,_  she thinks after some time. To be honest, if she finds something that even remotely resembles food, it's a victory. She can only see trees, and veganism isn't an attractive option for her.  _Do I even have an option?_

She looks around and only sees green.  _Perhaps not this time._

She can't risk to eat any of the little fruits she finds, as her brother once said, "Emma, if it is small and red, don't trust it".

Probably not the wisest words, but they serve her well at the moment.

 _Oh, I don't care,_  she exclaims, examining the plants and grabbing a leaf with the best smell she can find, stuffing it into her mouth. She immediately gags and spits it out, completely disgusted and looking at the offending rests of the chewed leaf on the ground, a firm scowl on her face.

 _I can start healthianism another day_ , she decides. Hunger isn't a major problem right now. She hopes there will be light soon - it would help her to heal more quickly and it would be infinitely easier to explore the grounds without falling abruptly. Multiple times.

She isn't sure how much time has passed until she reaches a road of some kind. Her left arm is injured, she is sure of it, and she must look like she has just escaped a murderer's house, but she must find help.

 _They can't be dead,_  she repeats to herself over and over again.  _They just can't._

They've been through too much to just die in an attack. They've fought so many creatures, faced somany dangers, proved themselves almost immortals. No, not her parents. They're alive and they need her help. If she's fast enough, she can stop any further invasion the Kanjanians were planning. She'd do anything to save her parents and her people.

The thought just intensify her steps, and she's almost running now, her black leather boots protecting her injured feet as much as possible when she's rushing her steps as determinatedly as she can. It's getting harder to swallow her whimpers of pain when her body is in such a state and she is putting all her weight onto it, but what else can she do when she has to be as fast as possible?

After some time, she is so tired she can barely breathe and she hasn't spotted anyone yet. She can only see green at her sides and grey at her feet. Slowing down her pace, she sees only blurred colours and after a few moments, only darkness.

.

_"-Shocking, really... She was found like this, all bruised up, the poor thing..."_

_"It was lucky Dr. Humbert was there, I wonder what would've happened if he hadn't forgotten his car keys..."_

_"A saint, that man... Took care of the girl like she was his own child, so worried he was... How she is alive is beyond me, heard him say he couldn't find a single part of her that wasn't bruised..."_

_"Now you are exaggerating entirely, Reul..."_

_"Oh but it is true! Look at her! Home abuse, I'd say... Signs of struggle were found, her poor little hands! Strong child, that one, very brave..."_

_Someone scoffs loudly._

_"Now are you going to say that Dr. Humbert said that too? Your imagination, Reul... Let's not assume things that were not yet confirmed, the child had enough suffering already."_

Emma keeps her eyes screwed shut, trying not to move. Are they talking about her? She feels numb everywhere and even her mind seems to try to work a little harder to keep up with her thoughts and the strangers' conversation.

She waits until she can't hear any voices and cracks one eye open, looking around suspiciously. When she deems it safe, she opens the other eye, studying the ambient she finds herself in. It is dark, but she can see everything: the white walls, the enormous windows, the white chair by her bed. She is laying down and even her sheets are white.

She has some place to go, but she can't remember where.

Emma tries to sit down and the pain that comes with the action makes her groan croakedly, having her immediately notice that her throat is painfully dry.

She just has to get out of here. She has to. She doesn't know where she has to go, but it is an important place, an important mission. So, after countless little groans and a lot of pain, she sits up and tries to sum up everything she remembers:

\- She is in some kind of healers' house.

\- Her legs and arms are covered with bandages and a hard-surfaced white thing.

\- She can't remember much of anything besides her name.

\- She has to get out of this place.

When she finally manages to turn her body sideways, she hears footsteps.

A lady of colour in her 40s, dressed in white, walks toward her but she immediately jumps out of bed. She stumbles and almost, almost falls, but gets a strong grip on the chair and manages to stand on her wobbly legs. Emma points an accusing finger at her and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"Who are you?" The blonde child manages to croak.

The lady raises her arms as though to show she means no harm.

"I'm Gerda," She replies. "Please go back to bed, little one. You have to rest."

Emma shakes her head stubbornly. "No. Show me the way out of here."

Gerda slowly approaches the child, her hands still raised above her head, a careful look upon her face. "I mean no harm to you. You can get out when you're better. Please, go back to bed...?"

Emma's eyes are impossibly narrowed now, and her position is that of a distrustful animal. She can barely see the other woman through the little line of rage her narrowed eyes provide her.

"...Adya," Emma replies. Her name isn't Adya, of course, but she knows better than to trust somebody so easily.

"Adya," Gerda says, as though testing how the name rolled off her tongue, and Emma can't help but notice the knowing look the older woman gave her, "We'll take care of you. Your body hurts right now, doesn't it? We'll make it stop. You're thirsty, aren't you? Hungry? We'll feed you, give you something to drink. I promise we're only trying to help. I swear it. See?" She carefully lowers one of her hands, closes it, then raises only her pinky. She smiles and takes more steps toward Emma.

Emma scrunches up her face, looking at the finger then back at the dark-skinned beauty, blurting out a croaked "What?!"

Gerda laughs beautifully then says, "Link your pinky with mine, this way you can trust my words. It makes my promise sacred, like a blood oath."

Emma had no idea what she was talking about. "I don't want your finger..." She says a bit shakily.

She can barely support her weight under her legs now, and it must be visibly obvious because Gerda looks so worried Emma feels a little sorry for her.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, I've never broken a promise before," she offers, shrugging noncomitally and giving Emma her best smile. They're so close that if she dares to stretch her arms, she can touch the blonde. She stuffs her hand into her pocket and offers the content she had picked up. "And I have pop tarts."

The child frowns and looks at the offered object curiously. Slowly tilting her head down, she sniffs it, and upon feeling no scent whatsoever, looks up at Gerda suspiciously. "What is this creature?"

Gerda wants to laugh, but the serious look Emma has on her face tells her that she isn't kidding, so the brown-haired woman just purses her plump lips and then says, "These are pop tarts, Adya. Have you never had one?"

Emma bites her lip and shakes her head, looking down.

 _How come a kid never had pop tarts?_  Gerda wonders.  _Where is this child from? Another planet?_

Gerda sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to her. She opens the pop tarts and smiles when Emma sits next to her, the curious look never leaving her little scrunchy face.

Gerda pops one pop tart into her mouth and makes a delighted little noise deep in her throat. Emma giggles then gets serious again, because she wants Gerda to believe she is a threat, that she is little but dangerous. So she frowns and says,

"Is it good?"

"It's more than good. It's double good. It's triple good. It's beautiful, it's marvelous, it's unbeliavable..."

Emma bites her lip to keep from laughing, but her eyes give her away.

"May I try one, miss Gerda?"

Gerda pretends to wait and then nodds, smiling playfully. "Yes, you may, miss Adya."

Then, she leans in and whispers, "Don't tell Dr. Humbert. He wouldn't like to know the first thing you've eaten after all you've been through was a pop tart, you know what I mean." She winks and elbows Emma playfully.

This time, Emma can't hold it back and giggles. Her missing front tooth makes an appearence as well as her dimples. She carefully studies the pop tarts and picks up the most colourful one.

When Emma takes a bite, she is so happy she starts swinging her legs back and forth, quickly finishing her pop tart so she can eat another one.

"I see you've lost a tooth," Gerda says, breaking their comfortable silence.

Emma nods and manages a muffled "yes," with her mouth full.

"Did it hurt?"

 _Did it hurt?_  Emma wonders. She doesn't remember that. She doesn't remember anything, but maybe if she tries to concentrate in one specific moment...

She closes her eyes as tightly as she can and searches for any kind of memory she can have. Anything. A scent, an image, a sound. But she finds nothing.

She shrugs.

"I have milk, too. Would you like that? I have enough for both of us. You must be very thirsty."

Emma stuffs as many pop tarts into her mouth as she can without ripping the sides of her mouth open and becoming the Joker. She can dismiss the kind offer but Gerda seems to be nice enough, and maybe she can help her.

"Milk would be great," She relents after some time.

When Gerta comes back she has two mugs of milk in her hands. She hands one to Emma and sips her own hot milk.

Emma grabs the mug with both of her hands and enjoys the warmth spreading through her hands. She blows at it and observes as the smoke travels around her. When she tastes her drink, it floods her with so many good sensations she can't help but to purr loudly.

"Oh, so I take it you liked it, Adya?"

Gerda's smile is so big and hopeful Emma doubts anything as beautiful as it will ever exist.

"Emma," She corrects. "My name is Emma."

.

"I am Dr. Humbert."

There is a pause and Emma eyes the man suspiciously.

"Graham, if you prefer, Emma."

The child just keeps looking at him. She obviously is still judging him silently, deciding if he is trustworthy.

He gives an awkward cough and keeps his hands folded in front of him, a small little expectant smile upon his face. He wanted to know if Emma deemed him an okay person.

Minutes pass and the two of them don't say anything. He gives up first.

"You are quite the fighter, Emma. Have you any idea of how lucky you are that you're alive? I'm still amazed..." The man trails off and looks at her as though he can't find in himself to believe she is right next to him, breathing,  _alive_.

"I found you on the floor, full of scrapes, bruises... Broken leg, broken arm... A small number of days and... and you're like this. It's a miracle. Your body, little Emma, it has an astounding capacity to heal itself." He gives her an amazed laugh, listening to the strong beating of her heart under his medical equipment. "The medicines you've been taking are very, very good, of course, but nothing of such capacity... Never..."

Emma listens intently.

Why is her body so different?

"Why?"

When she speaks, it is barely a whisper, but the tall man jumps out of his skin. Apparently, he wasn't expecting an answer and was lost in his own thoughts.

"Why? Well, because medicine isn't that advanced yet, my dear..."

"No," Emma says, a little loudly this time. "Why am I like this? Why am I different?"

Dr. Humbert scratches at the back of his neck and shakes his head for a few moments, his lips moving wordlessly. "I... I honestly don't know. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, Emma. When I found you, you had bruises all over you, dark circles under your eyes," He looks in her eyes and traces with his eyes the places where the dark patches must have been. "You were laying on your stomach, and I put you on your back so you could breathe a bit easier. I turn my back, make a few phone calls to the hospital... Next thing I know, the dark circles are gone, the bruises are very light..." He shakes his head disbelievingly. "You'd think all that time exposed to the sun would make it worse... I don't even know how much time you were there, Emma, but your skin was burning, so I'm assuming it was a lot."

Emma frowns. There's something about the sun, isn't there?

There is.

Her frown deepens and she purses her lips.

"What is it, Emma?" Dr. Humbert says. He tilts Emma's chin up and murmurs, "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out..."

Emma squints her eyes at him. "Why?"

"Come on, I won't steal your tongue, I promise."

When she keeps eyeing him suspiciously and looking at the door and at him from time to time, she says very seriously,

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I just want to see if your throat is okay. You know, so you can eat more pop tarts behind my back," Dr. Humbert looks at her pointedly. "How do  _I_  know  _I_  can trust you?"

The blonde child looks genuinely guilty and flashes him a sorry grin. "Fair enough."

"Truce?" He says, offering his hand for a business-like handshake. After all, they are serious people.

"Truce," She replies and looks at his hand, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Shake it so we're business buddies, Emma."

Emma holds the doctor's hand with one hand in each side of it, then shakes vigorously with a toothy grin.

"Okay, now open your mouth like an alligator..."

"A what?"

"An alli... You know what, just open it as much as you can..."


	2. apricate (v.) to bask in the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thank you so much for the feedback. Explaining some things to you:
> 
> Regarding to Emma's mother tongue: It's a mix of a lot of Indian/Native languages. 
> 
> Kanja means water born; from outside. I took the liberty to call Kanjanian the race enemy of Emma's so I thought it fit well here, since they are a foreign race that is linked with the water element in a very special way.
> 
> You'll see more of that as the time passes.
> 
> This story's Gerda is NOT Kai's Gerda.
> 
> And: This story is a bit cracky. Don't think too much.
> 
> Fun fact: Adrian means The Dark One.
> 
> English isn't my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.  
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

"It's called Dissociative Amnesia, Emma." The doctor informs her.

The child stares at him blankly. He sighs and gives a quick glance at the bed then back at Emma. "May I?"

She nods and pulls her legs up, instantly wrapping her arms around them.

"It's very common, did you know what? And you can still have your memories back. We've only waited for three days, have more faith in you." he says. "It can happen when something very upsetting happens to you. So to protect you, your mind creates a hard shell around these memories and sometimes it ends up covering up every single one of them, be it accidentally or not. That one is called Generalized Amnesia." He notes how Emma hugs her legs even tighter when he says that and smiles sympathetically. "It's like a turtle, you know?"

Emma shakes her head, supporting her chin on the top of her knees.

He sighs inwardly. What could possibly have happened to this child to cause such an enormous trauma, he didn't know. She must live in an extremely secluded area to not know what a turtle is, because honestly...

He considers asking _Are you Mowgli_ _?_ But even Mowgli would know what a turtle is.

Dr. Humbert stuffs his hand into his scrubs' pocket, taking the mini plush turtle off of it.

"Now, little Emma, this is André. He's a turtle. This hard thing here," He taps its little shell, "it's his shell. It's what protects his body. Without his shell, he would be very vulnerable and an easy prey. Turtles can be quite fast and they're remarkable swimmers, but, still an easy prey.

Emma carefully scoots closer to Dr. Humbert and runs her finger through the entire length of Andre's little shell. "So it's like their home?"

Dr. Humbert hums. "Your mind created an imaginary shell much like André's to protect you from anything that has the possibility of hurting you and in the middle of it, it blocked every single one of your memories." He swipes his thumb over one stray tear of Emma's and tilts her chin up.

She doesn't look at him immediately, but when she does, she gives him the hardest stare she can muster.

"We don't know what happened to you, but when we do find out –and we will- I'm sure we'll see you're the bravest miniature of a person that anyone in this entire hospital has ever met." Dr. Humbert's smile is so small Emma almost, almost can't see it. Maybe, if she wasn't hoping for it quite so much, she wouldn't have seen it.

Emma takes so long to answer he was ready to stand up. But when he prepares himself to move, she wraps her little arms around his waist and closes her eyes very tightly.

"Woah there, sunflower hair," He murmurs, the little smile still playing on his lips.

The words make her miss something, but she doesn't know what.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It's after a two weeks they say she's fully healed and stop making blood tests and exams in general. She's been okay for a while now, but Dr. Graham is very insistent.

Her days are spent with Gerda and the other nurses (they taught her how to play chess and now, every night before Emma's bedtime, the nurses and the free staff members play). Sometimes, she roams around in the hospital to meet the other sick children. (her floor is only for children, but she's tried to go up or down only to be stopped by Gerda or any of the staff members. It's an everyday occurrence, as you may imagine.)

Once she actually made it, she got to the floor on top of hers, but they quickly took notice.

First she'd sneak around by wheelchair, but she knocked too many people down, especially the twins next door. They are on a grip since they got here, so when they carry the big medical instruments with them they get increasingly slow. Emma always promises Gerda she'll only give them "a little nudge", but it is too much power in her little hands. Every time she knocks them down, it's because the power of the wheelchair is too consuming.

 _My precious_.

She might be watching too much Lord Of The Rings.

Obviously, Gerda forbid her to touch any wheelchairs ever again. (so she does it when Gerda isn't there and Graham and her can race).

She discovered the technique of sneaking around barefoot. The art of tiptoeing was perfected by her; She is a very fast child, and as she has recently found out – stealthy.

When they get too distracted and forget to make sure Emma is still with the kids or in the playroom, they have a code for her disappearance.

"LITTLE DUCKLING ALERT!" One of them would shout, and everyone who was around would start looking for Emma.

She's been here for almost four months now, and she still has no glimpse of any memory. Emma has been living in a Foster Home for the past months but spends her whole days at the hospital and sometimes, if she is lucky enough, she gets to sleep in the hospital too. As this is a small town, the staff is rarely busy for too much time.

Every time someone asks about Emma's future the staff gives a poor excuse about her health and that's why she's there (at this point, it is very clear that they've become Emma's safe haven and that's why she insists on going there every day), or that they've found clues about Emma's family and don't want anyone else getting involved. That is a lie, of course.

No one is looking for her, at least that they know of. She had no ID with her when she was found, or any document that could help them to find out who she is.

So she has no family, no friends, no home. No anything.

That's why they started calling her  _little duckling._

Astrid, one of the sweetest ladies Emma has even met (considering her  _situation_  she hasn't met many ladies, but Astrid is very sweet. Believe her.) had told them during one of their chess matches the Ugly Duckling story. Given by Emma's twinkling eyes and little grin threatening to make an appearance, everyone noticed just how much the child related to the fairytale. No one would need to think very much to link the dots and realize the resemblance, too.

Since then, she's their little duckling.

She really doesn't mind; she's actually grown quite fond of the nickname.

And Emma has a family now. She can't imagine a better word for the hospital staff than family.

And then there is Dr. Adrian Gold.

Emma once overheard Gerda and Astrid saying how charming Dr. Gold is, and she could see why: His greasy, silky hair is at shoulder-length, he is mostly clad in suits when he's not wearing his hospital uniform, medium height, very educated. He carries a cane around to help him sustain his small, thin frame and if his presence wasn't so threatening, Emma'd say he looked somewhat  _fragile_. But when you look at him just long enough, you notice the strange glint in his eyes; the way he carries himself like he owns the entire world, and how he looks at everyone as though he knows something they don't.

This is a very serious matter for Emma, since she knows nothing.

He owns the hospital and is the Chief of Surgery, and is positively every single person in the hospital's nightmare.

He'd snap at the staff, poke them with his cane when they weren't expecting, pop out of nowhere to give people a fright and catch them sleeping or doing the gods knows what out of time. Sometimes he'd help Emma in one of her adventures or planting a rubber spider in Gerda's locker.

Emma finds him delightful.

Her suspicions of him quickly take place to a very deep care for him.

It is after one of their daily fright on Gerda, when Emma's belly still hurts because she's been laughing too much, that he tells her his plans to try and adopt her. He puts a little hopeful grin on his face and explains he'd like to take her in while they don't find any relatives of hers (he sounds so sure they will that the weight her heart has been carrying around lifts just a little).

He makes sure to tell her, though, that he'd completely understand if she didn't want it, but the Social Service won't wait too long until they take her away permanently –it's a miracle they haven't found a family for Emma, he says- and he quietly but surely adds, "Can you just imagine what it would be like without you in this hospital again?"

They talk a lot and he makes sure to ask her how she feels about it. She really likes it here in the hospital, but she thinks it'd be nice to have a place to call home like everyone there does.

She tries to ignore the pain that comes when she thinks about how she seems to be completely disposable: not even a single person came looking for her. And it hurts, it really, really does, but she tries her best not to think about it. But then she finds all these people, these friends, this...  _family_. They just take her in like it is no big deal; like she's always been part of their family, the missing piece of it. And one of them simply offers to take her in?

She's trembling when she nods her head and hugs him, and it's so hard to hold back the giggle when Gold pats her back. He tries (and fails) not to turn their hug into something awkward and she can almost hear him cursing internally, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As it turns out, Dr. Gold has a lot of money.

She thinks it might have helped them an amazing lot, especially when the matter is time.

A few weeks ago she didn't even exist legally since she didn't have any document, but Gold took care of it surprisingly quickly. After that, Emma didn't spend a lot of time in the hands of the Social Service: soon she was heading to her new home with her newly purchased backpack full of sweets and her new clothes.

"Emma!" Gold shouts through the window of the kitchen of the house. "Don't go too far!"

Emma gives him a thumbs up and throws her backpack behind her, carelessly lying on the wet grass of their garden and closing her eyes.

It feels too good. She feels too warm. And it isn't just the way the sun is warming up her whole body from where she is, it is the whole situation. Her "temporary" adoption, being cared for, everything. It just feels  _warm_  in an unexpected way. She still feels the empty space her former life and forgotten memories left; it is always present, it still leaves her a bit uneasy. But it doesn't feel as bad as it used to anymore.

She sighs blissfully and crosses her legs. It's going to be a good day.

She is almost asleep when she feels a presence hovering above her.

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't bother her quite so much if it wasn't blocking out the sun.

So Gold is trying to catch her by surprise, isn't he?

Emma's lips twitch slightly upwards and she says while opening up her eyes,

"Ha! Got-"

But she doesn't see Gold.

What she sees instead is a very peculiar thing:

A child of her age or a little bit younger, wearing a short-sleeved red dress that falls to her knees, eyeing her strangely. She has her arms crossed petulantly and her long, dark hair tied together in a high ponytail, safely secured with a red ribbon.

Emma abruptly stands up and runs her hands through the now wet and dirty fabric of her clothes as fast as she can, trying to look presentable. She manages to make her present state even worse, so she just pushes her wild hair behind her ears, folding her hands on her back.

Emma feels so underdressed in her own large jeans and black tank top she just smiles shyly and shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"Hi!" She says. Her voice ends up even more high-pitched than it already is. Her ears, face and neck immediately redden.

The girl smiles politely and offers her hand.

"I'm Regina." She says. "Regina Mills."

Emma eagerly unfolds her hands behind her back and brings them to shake with the other child's, grinning the whole time.

She tries very, very hard not to stare at the other girl. She has a perfect bruise-free olive skin, and standing in the sunlight like this, she resembles very much an angelic creature.

"I... I'd like my hand back," Regina says, extracting her hand from Emma's firm, shaking grip. She looks at the state of her hand after Emma's muddy handshake then scowls.

Emma grimaces. "Sor-"

Regina raises her hand indicating her to stop, her beautiful face closing up and absorbing an annoyed expression.

Emma frowns and swallows her pout, speaking very quickly so the girl wouldn't interrupt her again "I'm sorry! My name is Emma and I'm eleven years old!"

When the girl just stares at her confusingly, she shares quietly, "I also enjoy the taste of chocolate very much!"

"Wait, you're  _eleven_?"

Emma nods.

"That's a lie. Then why do you have a missing tooth?" Regina points out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Emma frowns. Is that not normal? Do people not lose teeth? Dr. Humbert had mentioned that it was a bit uncommon for a child to lose their front teeth so late, but Emma's entire system works in a way he says he doesn't fully understand.

"Because," Emma says, shrugging it off.

The dark-haired child smiles mischievously and arches an eyebrow. "Liar."

Emma's eyes flash dangerously.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she hears a deep voice say something about trust and red little things, and her rage only grows.

"I'm not a liar!" She puffs out her chest, looking very much like an offended peacock. "My teeth take a long time to fall out and grow, it is perfectly normal!"

Regina smirks and shakes her head from side to side as though she couldn't comprehend how someone could say something so ridiculous. "Right."

Emma narrows her eyes and then opens her mouth like an alligator (thanks, Dr. Humbert) and points at the referred missing tooth. "See? It is already growing!"

A woman wearing a dark suit chooses that moment to shout Regina's name from her porch, coming back inside.

The olive-skinned child alarmingly looks back, gives a nod to Emma and starts running toward the house the woman just disappeared in. She sees Regina stop when she opens the door, giving a small smile to the blonde and going in.

Emma stares after her and frowns for the hundredth time that day. Regina was being evil only seconds ago, why the heavens did she act friendly when she was saying goodbye?

Weird.

Emma shrugs it off and starts running back home. She opens the door as silently as she can and takes off her shoes. She starts tiptoeing to the kitchen with an evil grin making its way to her face.

She is going to scare the hell out of Gold this time.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So..."

The man in front of her stares at her expectantly and nods his head as a sign for her to go on.

"Who are these people living next to you?" She says, taking a forkful of mac and cheese.

"Next to us," He corrects. Gold drinks the rest of his juice and starts cleaning up the table.

"Yes, us," She murmurs, taking their plates to the kitchen. "I... I met this kid,"

"Oh, so you've met Regina, have you?" Gold laughs while turning on the tap and rinsing the plates he had just put soap on. "She's a bit of... hard work, so to speak. How was it?"

Emma immediately nods and widens her eyes exaggeratedly. "It wasn't so bad, I think. She isn't like the people at the hospital, but... But I think she was just bored when she tried to get a rise out of me. At least I hope so," She smiles tentatively at Gold and grabs a dishcloth to dry up the dishes. "I'd like to have friends besides the hospital staff. I mean, I enjoy your company very much, but..."

Gold pats her back and gives her a tiny, comprehensible smile. "I understand, Emma. Wanting friends of your own age is a normal thing, don't feel guilty for wishing for it. I can't think of a person than you to break that ice of Regina's, to be quite honest with you..."

He heads back to the living room and starts to put the rest of the food in plastic storage containers with the practicality of someone who has been living alone for a long time. "Her family is a complicated one. Cora – that is Regina's mother – is the mayor of this town, so she is always very busy. She has little time for her family, but it ends up affecting Regina the most, since Regina's father, Leopold, travels almost every week.

I'd say Regina is a very lonely and complicated child, Emma, and you must be patient if you want to engage in a friendship with her."

Emma puts the plastic containers in the fridge and thinks about what Gold said. It couldn't be so hard to befriend her, could it?

And she kind of smiled at Emma at the end of their encounter, which is good, right?

She was a bit mean when they met, but she smiled at Emma. A genuine smile. A really, really beautiful, genuine, sincere, tiny smile.

Emma can face a bit of evilness if it means she'll get to see more of those smiles.

"I want to try, yes." She murmurs. "She could use a friend, right Dr. G?"

He tries to hide his pleased grin with a kiss to the top of her head and a nod. "She really could, Emma."

"Then that's what she'll have." She says with a bit more sureness than she feels.

"Very well." Gold supports his weight on his cane and touches the tip of her nose. "But before that, you have to get good night of sleep. It was a long day for both of us. Come on, little lady, off you go,"

At his pointed look she hugs him tightly and then holds his hand. "Let me help you,"

He shakes his head. "I'm not that old yet, Emma. Go on. I'll go check up on you in a few minutes, go get ready."

She laughs and runs to her new bedroom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


	3. noceur (n.) one who stays up late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the new chapter, lovelies.  
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.  
> English isn't my first language and all that jazz. You've been warned.  
> Let me know what you think if you feel like it.

Emma gives one last look at the mirror, inspecting herself.

She is wearing a blue shirt under dark blue overalls, coupled with blue knee high chucks.

She likes to match colors.

She tucks a stray curl behind her ear and runs her fingers through her thick locks; her hair is so long now it almost reaches her waist. But don't let that fool you: it is just as messy as it is long, and that is precisely why she is still standing in front of her bedroom mirror, smoothing it down. She wants to look presentable for her new friend, and second impressions are just as important as the first ones. Maybe even more so, she tells herself, because the last time she was seen by Regina she was covered in mud and grass.

The blonde child walks carefully down the stairs; she doesn't want all her work to go to waste. She sets her back straight and takes precise, short steps, like a little robot.

Gold must hear her relieved sigh when she finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, as he calls for her over his shoulder.

"Emma?"

She keeps her careful pace until she comes to stand behind her caretaker, peering over his shoulder and inhaling the air profoundly. Gold is setting several duck-shaped cookies into a tray.

"Are these cookies? May I have one?" She asks excitedly, fighting very hard her urges to bounce up and down. Man, this making a good impression thing is hard.

"Of course, Emma. But first we should decorate them, don't you think?" Gold gives her a quick look and winks playfully before giving her a once-over and chuckling lightly.

"Oh, aren't you a sight to sore eyes?" He turns completely around and snatches her hand, spinning her around. Emma giggles then remembers her mission, stopping mid-spin to slow down a little bit. Noticing her distressed expression followed by little hands smoothing down blonde curls, he smiles and asks, "Why are you so fancy, little lady? Whose heart are you aiming for?"

"Am I really okay?" She murmurs uncertainly. She stares at her clothes self-consciously and stuffs her hands into her overall's pockets. "I want to visit that girl next door. It's a good idea, right? Do you think she likes blue?"

"Absolutely, absolutely. Let's finish these cookies so you can take a few for her, Emma. I was going to call Belle to stay with you as I'm at the hospital, but it fits well if you stay with Regina."

Belle is Gold's betrothed. She is a petit, raven-haired woman with a very kind smile and soul. She owns a flower shop and has taken Emma with her quite a few times to learn about flowers; there is an enormous greenhouse in the back of the shop and she lets her take care of the plants too.

Emma's been with Gold for two weeks now and she spends most of her days with Belle since he spends his in the hospital. Gold says Belle doesn't live with them but she sleeps in the house almost every day and shares meals with them every day.

Emma likes Belle very much, so she doesn't mind it at all.

"I can go to the shop when I'm finished with Regina, Mr. G. I know the way, don't worry about it."

He thinks for a few seconds then sighs. When he relents, he says, "All right. But before you have to promise me a few things. Emma, look-" He starts.

Emma holds up a hand and says, starting to list what she remembers and raising one finger every time she gets to another rule, "Look both sides before crossing the street, don't accept anything from strangers, green is no, red is yes, yellow is no, don't pet any stray animals..."

Gold gives her an approving look and kisses the top of her blonde head. "Very well, you may go. Let's get this cookies finished, shall we?"

He starts to wash his hands and Emma follows his lead. When he finishes, he shows her many colourful pen-like objects, dropping them on the table.

"These are the colours we have and we'll use them to draw on our cookies. Are you ready?"

Emma nods very seriously and presses her hands together as though to warm them up. "Let's do this."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Knock, knock, knock.

She is standing in Regina's porch carrying a tray with several cookies. There are six bigger cookies on top of the mini duck cookies and each one of them carries one big, bold, red letter of Regina's name, when placed together forming "Regina".

Knock, knock, knock.

Emma starts to make anagrams of Regina's name while she waits at the door, biting her lip expectantly. Is her friend not home?

When she raises her hand to knock one more time, the woman Emma had seen calling Regina's name the day they met opens the door and stares down at Emma.

She heaves one long, deep sigh and shakes her head disbelievingly.

"Scouts!" She mutters under her breath, then continues angrily and in a tone fitting for Emma to hear,

"We are not interested, girl. Have I not been clear enough? Honestly, the audacity of you girls of the woods, to come and knock on my door when I've clearly stated-"

"No, ma'am! I'm not from the woods! I'm here to see my buddy Regina!"

Just then, the woman bothers to get a proper look at Emma and her cookies. She purses her lips in distaste at Emma's choice of clothing and squints at the food.

"Regain?" She murmurs more to herself than to the unwanted guest, but Emma shakes her head eagerly, trying to explain,

"No, it's Regina!"

At the woman's blank look, she points to the cookies and starts to put them in the right order excitedly,

"See? Now-"

"Regina dear, your dyslexic friend is here!" Cora announces, giving Emma one last look of pity before disappearing inside the house.

Regina comes rushing down the stairs just in time to see her mother giving her a warning stare and resumes her walk to the door in a normal pace.

"Regina!" Emma beams.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" She says, taking in the sight of the blue-clad girl. She giggles silently and gestures to her, "Why are you cosplaying Violet Beauregarde?"

"I'm... I'm what? What is that?"

"From Charlie And The Chocolate Factory?" Regina offers, inspecting the cookies and trying to hide the pleased grin that threatens to make itself visible. She steps outside and closes the door behind her to make sure her mother doesn't hear them. She repeats, "What are you doing here?"

"I'd like to give you this," She pushes the tray to Regina and grins goofily, putting her hands back into her pockets. "There were too many for just the two of us," She explains, blushing slightly. Then she motions to the bigger cookies. "So I made these for you. I hope you like them."

The raven-haired child studies her intently and closes her hands tight around the tray, feeling like her heart was increasing its size more and more with every second until it couldn't fit in her chest.

"Thank you," She murmurs, her own blush starting to colour her olive cheeks. Then, she remembers something: no one ever pleases her without wanting something in return. Her mother always gives her a half-hearted compliment before demanding something, and if she doesn't do it she is an ungrateful child; her father gives her presents only to ask for her understanding when he says he won't be home for a few months; Her teachers give her good grades only to ask her to speak well of them to her mother; her friends talk to her only so they can take advantage of her possessions. What does Emma want? "But why?"

Emma shrugs noncommittally and twists her hands nervously inside her pockets. "There were too many,"

Regina shakes her head from side to side and repeats. "Why?"

The taller child's lips quirk upwards just a little, and she shrugs again. "I wanna be your friend."

The brunette frowns in puzzlement. Her friendship? Could that be possible?

Just then her mother rushes past her with a huge bag in hands, her red heels clicking loudly on the way. She gets in her car and starts it, rolls the window down and fixes her daughter with a stare, crooking her finger for her to come closer.

She gives the tray back to Emma and whispers something about being right back, going to meet her mother.

Emma watches as the facial expressions of Regina's mother change from annoyance to distaste, talking in low voices and looking at the blonde every once in a while in a displeased manner.

After a few seconds, the woman drives off and Regina walks to Emma with slumped shoulders and a small frown threatening to deepen.

"Are you okay?" Emma murmurs.

"Yes," She answers, smiling sadly. "But Mother said I have to go back in now. Thank you so much for the cookies."

She tries to take the tray back but Emma has a firm grip on it. She shakes her head stubbornly and says, "Do you need help with this? It's kind of heavy..."

It really isn't and both of them know it, but Emma is so eager to spend some time with her and  _maybe_  she is too, just a little bit. So she nods enthusiastically and starts to make her way to the kitchen as Emma closes the door behind her before following her steps and looking around the house in awe. Regina points at the kitchen counter and Emma puts the tray there, still a bit dazed with her surroundings.

"Your house is so big..." She whispers. The walls are covered with dark wallpapers in exquisite, flower-like patterns and there is an old air about the furniture and the whole area that it is truly beautiful, but it lacks on the welcoming air her house has. Regina's house is a bit, well, cold – figuratively speaking. It feels like just a house, not a  _home_. It has no photos besides an old awkward family portrait and a few of Regina's mother with important figures here and there.

"Yours isn't that different," Her new friend answers with a subtle smile that warms up Emma's insides.

"It really is." The blonde chuckles. "Are you sure you have to stay inside?"

"I'm going to have a few classes today, so I have to stay. But..." She runs to the living room and brings a piece of paper and a pen with her, then uses the counter as a support as she starts to scribble down a few numbers. She folds the paper and smiles shyly at Emma, approaching her and putting it inside the overall's pocket. "If you still want to be my friend, you can call me. But only before 8pm, as that is my bedtime, and-"

Emma's whole face lightens up and she makes a happy little sound, wrapping her arms around Regina and resting her head on her shoulder. "Okay," She agrees. She doesn't need to know any other rules, she'd agree with everything. She'd do anything.

Regina's dark eyes widen comically before she wraps her own arms around the blonde child, her blush deepening even more. "Okay, Violet Beauregarde,"

Emma grins even though she has absolutely no idea who Violet Beauregarde is and given Regina's previous history, it should be something at least a little malicious, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. She is over the moon with joy at the knowledge that Regina wants to spend some time with her – and maybe she hugs Regina just a little tighter at the thought of it.

"E-Emma! You're strangling me!" The brunette complains a little breathlessly. The hugger child lets go of her new friend only because she doesn't want to kill her before she gets to tell her everything she's learned about flowers.

"Sorry, friend!" She says, her eyes twinkling.

Regina grins at her and tries to hold back a giggle as Emma composes herself and twists her hands together. "I have to go now,"

The olive-skinned girl nods her head comprehensively. Emma waves timidly at her and runs off, throwing a loud "Bye, friend!" over her shoulder.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Bug!" Belle exclaims when she feels little arms wrapping around her from behind.

Emma gives her a toothy grin and waves at Belle's employees. She gets down on her knees to feel the scent of a particularly big red lily, humming appreciatively. "This one is so pretty."

Belle laughs and comes closer to kiss the top of her head. "You can take that one if you like it so much. I'm sure Adrian has a vase for you to put it in."

"Really?!"

"Yeah," She says, still laughing. "Leave it there to prevent any accidents, as we're both very aware it is very likely to happen. As long as you don't forget it when we're going home, it's still yours." With a light wink at Emma, she walks to the counter to greet the new costumers.

Emma gets up and studies the new flowers. The shop has quickly turned into her favorite place to be; the smell, the peacefulness, the air, the people. She normally helps Belle with the costumers, tends to the plants at the greenhouse and reads and if there is something bad about it Emma has yet to find out.

She makes a beeline to the greenhouse and breathes deeply when she gets there, examining everything.

It's been too long since she's been here.

Why did she ever leave?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She sighs nervously and presses the right numbers on the telephone, biting her lip expectantly. Pushing the green button, she closes her eyes very tightly and crosses her fingers to give her luck as she puts the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?"

" _Regina Mills speaking."_

Emma bites her lip to keep from giggling. Here she is, clad in loose pajamas and raccoon-shaped slippers and lying down on her bed and Regina greets her as though they're in a business meeting.

"Hi, friend." Emma whispers with a small smile.

She hears a small, surprised sigh at the other end of the line and her smile only broadens. She clutches the phone against her ear with a bit more force.

" _Hi._ "

"Is it a good time to call?"

" _Yes. Just... Just let me change clothes. You can keep talking."_

"Okay."

She hears shuffle sounds in the back and creases her eyebrows together in thought. What is she going to tell her?

She decides to start with facts about flowers that she learned with Belle and the people at the shop.

"Did you know that Bamboos produce flowers very rarely? They're small most of the time, but very beautiful. So when they finally produce these rare, beautiful flowers, all flowers of the same species bloom at once. Like a domino, but faster."

The shuffling stops. She hears steps and presumes Regina must be making her way to the bed.

"At the same time, every single one?" She answers in awe.

Emma hums and says, "It's amazing, right?"

"Very..."

They stay in a comfortable silence for a few seconds and Emma covers herself up with her thick blankets. In the darkness of her room, she could see a few stars through her window.

"Will you tell me more about flowers?"

The blonde child smiles. "Yeah. What do you want to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me."

"Hmmm..." She thinks a little, then says, "There was a time, more or less 400 years ago, when tulip bulbs were more valuable than anything. Even gold!"

"Oh... But why?"

Emma starts to make tulip patterns with her fingers on her blanket absentmindedly. "They symbolized immortality. I guess they were just too scared to die, and chose to take any chances that may let them live a little longer or, well, forever."

Regina scrunches up her face even though she knows Emma can't see it. "That's weird. Why would somebody want to live forever? They'd lose everyone around them. They'd watch everything turn into nothing. How is that any good?"

"Belle said fear does that to people. She says they stop thinking because fear clouds all rational thoughts, and you just do what you can to survive through it."

The brunette child relents. "I guess." She runs her fingers through her dark hair to undo her braid and murmurs quietly, "I know something about the yarrow flower, do you want to know?"

"Sure!"

"Do you know who Achilles was?"

"No..."

"He was a Greek hero, son of the goddess of the sea and King Peleus. He was very, very brave and an incredible warrior, and came to be part of the army of Agamemnon in the Trojan War. They say he used yarrow tea to cure his soldiers' wounds, and for centuries people believed yarrow had magical properties."

"Wow..." Emma whispers.

"Right?" She murmurs, then gives a huge yawn and closes her eyes.

"Are you sleepy?" Emma asks curiously.

"A little." She admits. "Are you?"

The blonde child shakes her head before clearing her throat, "I'm the littlest of littles sleepy."

Regina giggles sleepily. "Are these even words?"

"I don't know," She laughs too. "Will you stay with me till I'm really sleepy?"

The child on the other end of the line smiles. "If you tell me more about flowers, then we have a deal."

"Deal."


	4. clinomania (n.) excessive desire to stay in bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the absolutely ridiculous wait for this chapter!  
> (Med studies are fucking me up so maybe in the future I can make it up to you with idk life saving or, y'know, being you guys' Jack in case there is a plane crash).
> 
> Snow's and David's names are the same here, only in a different language.
> 
>  
> 
> English isn't my first language and all that.
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies!

"Duck? Are you here?"

Emma sinks impossibly more on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. She fists her thick covers and presses the exquisitely comfortable fabric against her little body.

"You up there?"

A few seconds later she hears footsteps and scrunches up her face. She already senses what is about to happen, and curls herself into a ball in a desperate attempt at disguising herself.

The blonde child feels her bed sinking and holds back a hiss at the pain her nails which dig into her palms provided her. A hand finds its way to her back over the covers, caressing it. The person repeats the gesture over and over for an indiscernible period of time, until Emma eventually emerges from deep within the confines of her bed, peeking her blonde head to regard her friend.

She gets a smile too bright to be acceptable at this hour in the morning, and at her tiny grumble in response, Belle presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Morning, Bug."

Emma shakes her head in denial and covers herself all over again.

"Late night, huh?" She chuckles. Emma hears the sound of bare feet walking on linoleum and curtains being unceremoniously opened. Even with her eyes closed, she can still see the clarity Belle's actions result on. "Rise and shine, little sunshine!"

There it is. This phrase again. She is completely sure that she should remember something related to it; what can it possibly be?

"We really have to go if you want to go to the shop today, Emma. I'll be downstairs preparing breakfast, okay? I'll make something you really like. What do you say? Come on, you can ask me to prepare anything today, because I'm that nice."

She peeks from under her covers again. "Anything?"

Belle rests her back on the doorway and winks at her. "Any-friggin'-thing."

Emma reaches to smooth her bangs and gets on a sitting position, combing her hair with her fingers and wincing when she encounters a particularly stubborn knot. She bites her lip and suggests, trying not to sound too hopeful, "Chocolate pancakes and hot chocolate with cinnamon?"

"Hell yeah, Duck. You're the boss."

Belle flashes her a big grin and she smiles back before the woman retreats her back and makes her way downstairs. How is it that the brunette and Gold had ended up together, she'll never know. People say opposites attract and she supposes that saying fits perfectly when it comes to the two of them.

She gets up and snatches her towel from the chair she keeps only to hang her things on and starts to sort through her stuff to find something fitting for today. Maybe if she wears red, Regina will appreciate it very much and praise her for the no-doubt impeccable choice of clothing.

It's chillier today, she notes. Warmer clothes it is, then.

She takes a long-sleeved dress with red and white stripes and red shoes, making a beeline to the bathroom.

 **.**  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Chocolate pancakes plus hot chocolate with cinnamon for a very hungry Duck coming," Belle shouts, the sound vibrating through the mansion.

Emma runs as fast as she can because she absolutely  _hates_ cold food and, well, the prospect of eating anything chocolate-related couldn't be more appealing. She almost slips when she gets to the chair and sits down, holding the knife in one hand and fork in the other.

"I'm  _very_  ready for this," She announces.

Belle laughs and places the food in her plate. She places, too, three marshmallows in Emma's mug and both of them breathe deeply, savoring the pleasing smell.

Belle sits down by Emma's side and starts to cut her food in little cubes. She hums appreciatively at the first forkful and sips her coffee, reaching for the newspaper.

Emma tries to mimic Belle's actions as subtly as possible, rolling up her dress' sleeves to her elbows and pouring hot chocolate on top of her pancakes.

"Hey, Duck? What's that in your wrist?"

"Huh?" She frowns over a mouthful of food.

Her caretaker's lover grabs her wrist carefully and studies whatever she sees, swiping her thumb over it a few times. She wears a thoroughly puzzled expression over her face and questions, "Is this a tattoo?"

Emma manages to answer her with more questioning muffled sounds and studies her wrist herself, squinting slightly. There is a white stripe from the top of her wrist to the crook of her arm, and studying it more closely, she sees it is a double headed arrow. She studies her other arm and sees the same thing.

"I honestly don't know," She answers nervously. "I promise you it wasn't there yesterday!"

Belle swipes her thumb in the entire length of the newfound mark, a curious look upon her face. "Well, it's... very beautiful. I mean, it has no texture; when I touch it, I only feel your skin, no bump or something like that. It's weird that it appeared out of nowhere, though."

"What do you think it means?" Emma whispers.

"I don't know. Do you think it has something to do with where you come from?" The brunette widens her eyes and then adds, "Not that it'd make a lot of sense."

"How would it? It just  _appeared_. Or my memory is all messed up again, which is much more probable than not noticing an  _arrow_  on my wrist." The blonde child shrugs and purses her lips, trying to conceal how so very scared she is feeling. If her memory is, in fact, troubled again, the chance to remember the previous 11 years of her life is even lower – and if her heart doesn't weight so much more when she comes to that realization, she doesn't know what could possibly be heaving so much in her chest.

"Your skin is very light. Chances are that we just didn't notice it because you're as white as Casper the Friendly Ghost," She knows Belle is trying to lift up her mood and it just manages to make her even more nervous.

Emma retreats her arm and adjusts her sleeves. "Please don't tell Gold," She pleads, searching for help in her friend's light eyes, "I'm already as strange as it is."

"You can relax; it's really nothing important. We can keep it between the two of us – but you have to promise to tell me if you notice any other... evidence... like this. Okay?"

"Okay."

Belle's lips upturn slightly and she notices the child's nervous habit to flex her fists and bounce her leg up and down whenever she is unsure of herself, and the desire to  _show_  her she is safe with them is too overwhelming.

She leans in and presses a kiss to Emma's temple, reaching down to stroke the blonde's back up and down. Slowly, the tense muscles start to soften, and the brunette murmurs,

"Relax, Duck. You're safe with us. It'll be okay if you don't remember; old memories aren't even that great. We can always make new ones together, right?"

Emma presses her lips together in an attempt at a smile. "Right."

 **.**  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She unfolds the blanket she carried with herself to the park and places it over the grass. She pulls out her shoes and places them over the extremities of the blanket, lies down and lets out a happy little sigh when she feels the cold wind dance around her.

"Hi, Emma."

Emma looks up and sees her new friend smiling shyly at her and holding her beautiful yellow dress down so the wind wouldn't expose her little legs, clad in black leggings. She holds a big red basket and the sight, coupled with Regina's bee cosplay, is enough to make Emma's lips stretch into a big, silly grin. "Hi, friend."

She pats the spot next to her and crosses her legs, observes as Regina settles down.

"I ran away," Regina confesses, an excited look daring to make itself visible. Her big brown eyes carry a new twinkle and she bites her lip, trying to contain a grin. "Not really...  _Ran away_ ," She averts her eyes and admits, trying to convey nonchalance but failing miserably as her tone is now merely a whisper, "More like... Didn't tell Mother... She's at work anyway..."

Emma grins goofily and nods at Regina, leaning in and planting a loud, exaggerated kiss to the brunette's cheek. Their faces immediately turn as red as Regina's basket, and Emma brings the collar of her long dress up her nose to hide her rapidly coloring cheeks while Regina conceals her big, rebel smile under little hands.

"I think you're very brave," Emma shares, voice muffled by her dress. She adjusts it and continues, "You look like a runaway princess like this. I've read about it. I know some stuff."

Regina just grins and observes the way Emma's dimples would appear every once in a while as she speaks, and how her green, green eyes would smile at her. "I honestly think I'm just silly. If she finds out..."

Emma gets in a sitting position and shakes her head in denial, her mess of blonde curls dancing around her face. "She won't. I promise. We'll be faster than The Flash."

"Okay," Regina agrees.

Emma snatches Regina's basket and studies the contents inside, humming happily when she finds several triangle-shaped sandwiches and two boxes of apple juice. She takes one and sticks the straw inside it, placing it inside her mouth. Regina pulls her hair into a high ponytail, takes a sandwich for herself and Emma and both of them laugh as an enormous Dalmatian runs past them, his distressed owner running after him.

Emma looks up and studies the different shapes of the clouds, squinting in the sunlight. She looks at her friend and says hiding a smile,

"Hey, did you know you can't breathe through your nose with your tongue out?"

"What?" The dark-haired child says.

"Yeah, like, you can't do both. It's physically impossible or something like that..."

Regina scrunches up her face and sticks her tongue out, breathing deeply, and Emma can't help but crack up, snorting so loudly her juice almost slips out of her nose.

Regina scowls and pushes Emma away with her bare feet. "Idiot!"

Emma snorts even louder at that, shaking her head from side to side. "I really like dogs, though, Regina."

Regina pinches her thigh, and at her undignified "Oww!" she does it again, until Emma stands up and runs, her friend going after her.

 **.**  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tucking herself under the covers, she reaches for a little black box she keeps under her pillow. It's the only thing she had with herself when she first got here, and it's tiny; at the first look, one would think she kept necklaces or earrings inside. (Or that she has plans to propose to someone).

She travels her fingers through the thick, dark surface of the box and pops it open. Inside, it is covered with golden drawings that resemble letters, and as much as they seem intriguing shining bright in the dark of her room, what gets her attention is the black miniature of a ball placed inside the box.

It's hot when she touches it, but not too much; just enough. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger and studies it intently.

It's been a while since she began asking herself why she'd only have this with herself, and it only managed to irritate her  _more_. She wasn't just thrown away, she also had to deal with not having absolutely nothing, not even her memories. And as some sort of sick joke, she is left with a glass ball? Never mind clothes to warm her body in the winter; never mind food to at least guarantee her health for a few days; Never mind anything. Really, if Graham had not found her, she wouldn't have survived.

Not that it mattered, apparently. Because a godforsaken  _ball_ would be so much more important.

She feels her blood boiling and throws the offending object across the room, scowling deeply.

In the minute it reaches the floor, it emits a strong violet color; It runs throughout the entire room as though it were scanning it, and then it stops. The violent light subsides. Then, it projects, right in the middle of Emma's room, a house. Emma's house.

Emma stares at the projection, thin lips forming an 'O' shape. She carefully raises her hand and tries to touch the 3D projection, but she only manages to see it move through her.

"Woah," she whispers.

"109, Mifflin Street," Comes a robotic voice from somewhere.

"W-What?" Emma stutters.

The scan turns to her and she gets up and hides behind a bookshelf, the light following her. She runs to a darker spot and holds her breath.

The image of herself appears in front of her and she stares at it, wide-eyed. How is it possible...?

"Princess Emma Cygnus," The voice informs her. "Twelve years old, Transfiguration, Born of King Awihka and Queen Hipli Hatka of the Aram Galaxy."

Emma quickly returns to her bed and her image follows her. She doesn't take her eyes off of it, completely transfixed. "Princess Emma?" She whispers.

"Princess Emma Cygnus," It repeats, "Tw-"

"No, no, no," Emma cuts it off, shaking her head from side to side. "Who is that? Where is she?"

It scans around the room one more time and says, "Princess Emma Cygnus; Bed."

"What?!" She exclaims, then remembers it is late, and she doesn't wish to wake up her caretakers. This is already too messy; she doesn't want to complicate it even more. "What?" She hisses.

"Princess Emma Cygnus is in  _bed_." It says. "In room; In 109, Mifflin Street; In Storybrooke; In Massachusetts; Northeast of the United States of America; United States of America; North-"

"Jesus Christ," The blonde child breathes, sinking her face into her hands. What is she supposed to do? Why would they send her with this? "Am I supposed to believe that I am this Princess Emma?"

There is a pause, and then, "Yes."

"I'm not even twelve years old, brother." Emma tells the robotic ball as though this whole situation isn't enough already, "You should review your facts before asking me to believe ridiculous stuff like this. Honestly, do your homework..."

"Princess Emma Cygnus' birthday is," It pauses again and says, matter-of-factly, and if it had a finger Emma would bet it'd be sassily pointing it at her, "On October twenty-third of two-thousand and two."

She lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Is that true? October 23nd was over three months ago, the day Graham found her. Could it be possible? How could she not want to believe this little robot, when she had spent so much time searching for even a  _clue_  of who she is? And now she finds out she supposedly had  _everything_  in her hands all along?

"If I'm a princess, why am I here? Why did no one bother to look for me? Your theory has many,  _many_  plot holes." She pulls the covers up around herself, then turns around and fluffs her pillow.

"It was for your own good, Princess. Her majesty-"

Emma snorts loudly and holds up a hand. "You do realize how preposterous that sounds, don't you? Princesses aren't just thrown away like I was. They aren't abandoned with just a lying robot in the middle of some  _road_." She widens her eyes for a better effect. "But Christ, let's pretend this whole thing is real. Think about it. Protection purposes? Really? I bet there were dangerous beings after me too, weren't there, little Robot? I'm  _sure_  leaving me here by myself would be such an effective way of protecting me."

"It is, indeed." It agrees with her, and Emma snorts once more. "They won't find you here, Princess. This race's scent is stronger than yours, you're more easily blended into their-"

"How do I turn you off?" Emma questions. Talking about everything that she has been dying not to even think about has started to take its effect on her, and she blinks rapidly, trying to control herself. She promises herself not to cry in front of the person who set this up. She just needs this to stop, that is all. "You've had your fun. E-mail this video to whoever sent you, have a few laughs. Just let me go to sleep, okay?"

"Princess-"

"How. Do. I. Turn. You. Off?!" Her voice is a little bit croaky, but she manages to hold her sobs. Her anger sustains all the strength she holds.

"This device is deactivated by the force of impact, or-"

Emma gets up and grabs the ball, throwing it across the room. When no sound or light comes from it anymore, she puts it inside the box and under her bed. She manages to hold her sobs until she throws herself on the bed, sinking her face on the pillow.

She does not sleep until the sun makes its appearance, taking away her tears and drying her soaked pillowcase.


	5. alate (adj.) having wings; lifted up in flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, JK Rowling, for providing the world (universe, maybe? Idk, I'd like Harry Potter if I were an alien.) such amazing characters such as Winky and Dobby (and making me crack up as I shamelessly inspired my agender little elves on them. The way they talk is too amusing). That being said...
> 
> You guys are adorable and reading what you think makes my fingers eager to write, so thank you.
> 
> ('sides whatcha think, let me know if you'd like to beta-read this story, because I'm in desperate need.)
> 
> Enjoy!

She rubs her hand, once again, over the foggy full-length mirror.

The bathroom is still a bit warm from her shower and her thick hair is tucked into a messy bun on top of her head. She gives her back to the mirror and turns her head to the object, trying to get a proper look at her back.

There it is.

Strange, white drawings follow the line of her spine. They resemble letters, like the ones drawn inside her little box, and though it makes her deeply uncomfortable, she can't deny it is very, very beautiful.

She reaches behind her and touches the drawings she is able to reach, following the line of the strange letters. For some curious reason, it tingles every time she touches it. She frowns and tugs at the hairband so she can give her hair a proper bush; as she does so, her wrist touches the back of her neck, and a memory overcomes her.

.

" _Hide, Emma, hide!" Someone shouts._

_They're in some kind of forest with enormous, thick trees. The light isn't very strong, as the trees block most of it; tiny fairy-like creatures fly around their residences on top of the thickest trees. It's very comfortably warm and the wind runs through her hair as she speeds as fast as she can, hiding behind trees when she sees him._

" _Princess, Princess, Princess!" Tiny voices whisper right in her ear, and she tries to swat them away, little bodies swiftly ducking._

" _No, not now!"_

" _Princess_ has to _help us," One of them say, holding onto her hair so they wouldn't fall, with Emma's increasing speed. The other, tinier creature does the same and whispers their approval. "Us is needing thy help!"_

" _Ye," The other one supports, gesticulating with their tiny, crocodile-like hands._

_Emma rolls her eyes and hides behind a particularly large tree, heaving a deep sigh. She grabs both of them by their wings with her thumb and forefinger, and puts them inside one of the holes in the tree – probably a former residence._

" _What is it, you two?"_

" _Mukki does it again, and again, and again..." The one with blue wings, Atohi, tells her, obviously distressed. Their wings flutter in a rather disoriented rhythm, and little blue eyes give Emma a pleading look._

" _Mukki is destroying everything, Ye Highness," Beshkno, the silver-colored one with several colorful feathers hanging on their pointy ears, explains. They hold up a tiny hand and start, looking particularly offended, "They is not making hammock. They no cook. They is not helping Beshkno plant. Mukki is no helping, they isn't. Not a task, Mukki helps, not one. Don' protects forest, no. No anything! They impossible..."_

_Emma nods, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from giggling at the tiny elf's exasperation, and asks,_

" _Are you sure they can't do anything? Certainly there is something which they're good at." She looks behind them and sees his shadow, then starts to climb the thick tree with familiar ease. She doesn't need to look to know they're following her; the rapid flutter of their wings is enough. She settles on a strong branch which she hopes is tall enough he won't look for her there. She whispers, just to be safe, "What about helping to keep The Claurichauns' pants on?"_

_Claurichauns are, basically, little fellows who are always, always "Just a little tipsy". They wear pointy little hats and that is basically it – running around in the jungle in the nude (an image Emma will_ never _be able to erase from her mind, dare she say,) and giving passing by's a friggin' fright. Once, the mermaids actually chopped off a certain area of one particular YOLO Claurichauns, and now they're absolutely terrified of water._

_The only way to scare them off is to throw water at them, but that will only present you with endless years of these crazy little guys assaulting your freezer and following you around._

" _Nothin'. Everything, we try." They look as traumatized as Emma at the mention of the Claurichauns, and the two of them shudder visibly._

" _Ye," Atohi says, huffing, then their eyes are bigger than Emma thinks is possible, focused behind the blonde._

_Before she can turn, she feels a solid jab in her shoulder and looks back with a loud "Owww."_

_She sees him hanging on a vine like a smug, red-haired monkey, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. He switches between vines and sprints off, cackling on his way._

" _You got it, little sister!"_

_Emma groans and starts to climb down the tree, a fierce look upon her face._

" _I'll talk to you guys later," She calls after them, running toward her brother. "'Cause now I'm it!"_

**.**

She gasps.  _What?_

She looks around her and sees the bathroom, still feels the heat of her shower. What in God's name is happening to her?

She puts on her warm clothes without daring to look in the mirror – she is scared of what she will see,  _who_  she is going to see. She doesn't feel like herself, and things don't make sense at all.

She tucks herself into bed, snuggles the covers up under her chin, and makes a barrier of pillows between herself and the exposed sides of the bed. She doesn't feel even a tiny bit safe, and her heart feels tight tight  _tight_ inside her chest; She knows she asked to stay inside today, and she knows in a few hours Belle is coming home (when had she started calling it  _that_?) but suddenly she isn't sure she wants to be alone with her thoughts, or her troubled mind.

She reaches for the phone before she even registers it, and it only really  _dawns_  on her what she is doing when she hears the loud sound coming of the object clutched tightly against her ear; and by then, she hears  _her_  voice, and she can't hang up anymore. Not this time.

" _Hello_?"

"Regina," She breathes, and it's like a lifeline; One word, and she feels safe. One word, and she feels warm. "You're my best, best friend."

Emma can almost hear her smile, she's sure of it. " _I am?_ "

"Yeah." And she means it with everything she is, even if she doesn't know what it is. "You are."

" _You're mine too,"_ She says.  _"Even if you're a little goofy sometimes. Actually, scratch that,"_ There is a faint giggle, then she continues, " _Even if you're a little goofy all the time."_

"Am not," Emma protests, but she's grinning. "I made a pillow wall around my bed. It didn't feel all that safe, though," and she wants to add  _but now it does_  but it sounds silly even to her own ears, so she settles with, "I put Skyler the Tiger right on top of the biggest pillow, 'cause he feels safe."

She blushes and tries to hide her face with both hands, but the phone ends up slipping off her grip and knocking a pillow out of the bed. She puts it back, then returns the phone to her ear.

She feels just very, very dorky because Skyler the Tiger started as a joke about Belle's accent, and then her, Belle and Gold were making up silly names with rhymes on them, just so they could giggle at the whole situation.

"What are you talking about, even? A  _pillow wall_?"

"I had this weird flashback thing, or dream, I don't know." She shrugs, then murmurs, "I got a tiny bit scared. Put up a wall of pillows, since Gold keeps spare pillows here. I can't see the other side very well, now. Like-"

"You had a flashback?!" Regina exclaims. She stutters a little bit, then says, "Why didn't you say that  _before_? What did you remember?!"

"Sort of? I don't know." And she really doesn't, and thinking about it only makes her anxious and  _scared_ , but Regina is here. Regina is here. So she only hesitates a little before she tells her about her most recent discovery, fighting a little to find the right words without sounding completely ridiculous and failing miserably. But she does tell her everything, every possible detail – even how that one time, poor Happy had drunk way too much wine and swam naked on the mermaids' lake, dared to smooch the living daylights out of them and ended up losing his big toe. He was never the same, that poor man.

But she doesn't tell her about the robot, not yet. She doesn't want her best friend to think she is just some crazy kid, or that she is pushing her limits – because honestly, she  _knows_  how ridiculous it sounds, and she knows, just  _knows_  it's not true. She knows it can't be. But still, very deep down, she wants it to be true. She wants to be that person who had absolutely everything before she was left with nothing; She wants to be that person who had a loving family who misses her, and knows her more than she knows herself. She wants, and wants, and wants.

" _Do you believe it_?" The brunette child asks after a while, a little tentative.  _"I mean, do you really think it is impossible for that to be true?"_

"What?! Are you saying you think it  _is_?"

" _I didn't say that!"_ She defends herself.  _"But... Do you_?"

Emma bites her lip. "Do you?"

"I don't know... Do y-"

"Yeah," The blonde cuts her off, closing her eyes. "I believe. Fine, call me stupid or whatever you want, but it is what I have. So I'm gonna hold onto it as long as I can, okay? I'm gonna believe this stup-"

"Emma," Regina murmurs and she can  _hear_  that silly little fond smile she keeps for Emma and for Emma  _only_ , as though she means to say 'stop talking, goofy' but she can't move her lips for even the first syllable. "I believe it too. It sounds... It sounds crazy, it makes absolutely no sense. But I do. I can see everything, I swear. I can see you and your blonde father, and your curly-haired mother. I can see you coming back home covered in dirt, and your mother chastising you," She giggles, and Emma laughs too.

"How do you think she is? I can't imagine. Is she blonde? Is she tall, or is she little? Do you think she's caring?"

"I'm sure she's the loveliest." She assures her. By the tone of her voice, Emma knows she is thinking about her own mother, and she tries to think fast of some way to make her think about things that are worth thinking; Things that don't and won't hurt her.

"What about the elves?"

That does it. Regina laughs, exclaiming, "Dang, those elves. What, even..."

Emma cracks up and yawns, stealing a few pillows from her fort and snuggling up. "Dang?!"

"Oh, shut up." She's blushing.

"Dang, Regina! Aren't I hella sleepy?"

She can't keep that stupid smile off her face.

"Shhh. Why are you sleepy, anyway? It's 11."

She closes her eyes very hard. "Didn't sleep very well. Belle's gonna come over in a couple hours."

"Oh."

After that, they stay in a comfortable silence, and when she's sure Regina has either fallen asleep or moved into another dimension, she says,

"Dang!"

"Shut up, Emma."


End file.
